


And Indeed There Will Be Time

by riverlight



Category: due South
Genre: Babies, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverlight/pseuds/riverlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So how 'bout it, Frase?" he says. "Wanna run off with me and buy a house with a picket fence and get the two-point-five kids and the minivan and the dog?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Indeed There Will Be Time

**Author's Note:**

> For Alexis, in the Due South Seekrit Santa challenge 2006.
> 
> Many thanks to strangecobwebs and justbreathe80, who hit me upside the head me when I, um, forgot what I'd named my characters, and who, in the goodness of their hearts, prevented me from inflicting many comma-related errors upon the world. Thanks, ladies—you're lovely.

So Ray's lying in bed one morning, thinking normal thoughts, like: does he have any coffee? and, hey, wonder if Fraser wants to go see a movie later? And he's feeling pretty good, warm and relaxed, enjoying the ten minutes before he has to get up, when it hits him, boom, out of nowhere: that hey, you know what? he's pretty happy.

Which of course makes him jerk upright in surprise and knock last night's wineglass off the bedside table, and he has to scrabble around frantically for his glasses so he can clean it up before it gets on the carpet, but he almost can't be bothered to be annoyed, 'cause he's too busy being shocked by his little revelation. God, who'd have thought? It's not like he'd have called himself miserable, or anything, but maybe not, like, joyful, either.

Except that the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it's true. Yeah, so maybe he's heading closer towards forty than he'd care to admit, but all in all? Life's good. He likes his job, even if it is insane sometimes; he mostly gets along with his parents, these days (it helps that they're far enough away that they're not dropping in all the time); he goes dancing on Thursday nights and plays pickup basketball at the Y on Saturdays. And there's Fraser, and this whatever-it-is that they've been doing since they got back from Canada, which mostly Ray tries not to think about too much in case he jinxes it, but which, yeah, kind of makes him grin every time he does.

Yeah, so. This is maybe never what he meant to do with his life when he was twenty, but hey, he's not complaining. Ray grins and goes to get ready for work.

By the time Fraser shows up at the station house after lunch, Ray's worked through his entire backlog of paperwork, cleaned out his desk drawers, and made an appointment to go talk to a Sister Clementine Desjardins about the theft case he and Fraser are working on.

"You're looking cheerful, Ray," Fraser says, smiling down at him. Fraser's looking pretty cheerful himself, relaxed and happy.

"Fraser, buddy, it's a good day," Ray says. "Sun is shining, birds are singing, what's not to like?"

Fraser raises his eyebrows. "Metaphorical birds, I assume, Ray, since it's January," he says, straight-faced except that Ray knows him well enough to see the smile lurking at the corner of his mouth.

"Metaphorical birds, Frase," Ray says, and grins. He tosses Fraser his hat. "Here, you forgot this at my place last night. Come on, let's hit it, we got an interview with a nun."

"Hit it, Ray?" Fraser asks, like he doesn't know exactly what Ray's talking about. Ray gives him his best glare, for anyone who's watching, and, since nobody is, brushes his thumb against the soft inside of Fraser's wrist.

"Don't pull the clueless Mountie act with me, Frase, I got your number," he says.

"That you do, Ray," Fraser says, and Ray smiles, 'cause yeah, he does.

"Come on, Frase," he says, and Fraser gives him a little smile in return and makes this little "oh, after you" gesture with his hands, and follows him out.

Clementine Desjardins is striking and statuesque, with red hair and the sort of cheekbones that normally would make Ray sit up and pay attention, but at the moment he's sort of distracted by the fact that when they show up, there's a baby in a basket on her doorstep. The three of them stand there for a moment, staring dumbly down it.

"Is that a _baby?"_ Ray says, dumbfounded, just as Fraser says, "Ray, is that—" And then he clamps his mouth shut, and Ray jerks his eyes away from the baby to stare at Fraser, 'cause Fraser's got this peculiar look on his face, all teasing gone, and he's standing there with his hands hanging at his sides, totally still.

"Good God," the Sister says, breaking the silence. "Detective, will you—" She doesn't finish her sentence, and dashes inside the--house? convent? whatever, Ray doesn't know and doesn't care, 'cause now he's alone with Fraser and a baby, and Fraser just looks totally freaked out. Ray has no idea what to do.

"Frase, you want to, uh," he says, and gestures at the kid, but Fraser—

Fraser takes a step back, and raises his hands, and goes, "No, no, Ray, you can, uh, you can feel free," and _man._ Maybe Ray woke up in the Twilight Zone this morning, because Ray has seen Fraser with babies before, and he's fine with them, Ray would have said he _likes_ them, so what is up with that? So he does the only think he can think of: reaches down and picks the kid up out of its nest of blankets.

And then he forgets all about Clementine Desjardins, forgets all about whatever's going on with Fraser, because the baby's a soft solid weight in his hands, warm and alive and _perfect,_ and he feels his heart blow wide open and knows instantly that he's never going to be the same.

By the time the Sister comes back, Fraser's on his game again, which is good, 'cause Ray—Ray's looking down at the tiny fragile curve of the baby's skull cupped in his hands, and the blue tracing of veins in its forehead, and he's not sure he could string words together into a sentence if he had to. "Hey, kiddo," Ray whispers, and the baby opens its eyes and yawns.

"Of course, Sister, we'll come back another day, it's not a problem at all," Fraser is saying soothingly, efficient mask firmly in place and she's smiling and looking reassured. "We'll just be going, then," Fraser says, standing up and putting on his Stetson.

Except—god. Ray had always wanted kids, always, and Stella kept saying "I'm too young, Ray, give me a little more time," or, "I can't right now, Ray, my career, don't you understand?" and he kept on waiting, till one day he woke up and figured out she didn't want kids, ever, and what's more, didn't want _him._

He'd pretty much given up on the idea, hadn't thought about it for years—and anyway, now he's with Fraser, and he'd give up a hell of a lot more than the possibility that someday maybe he'd meet some woman and start a family, if it meant he got to be with Fraser. 'Cause yeah, that happy thing? Pretty much Fraser's doing.

But still. He's moving before he has a chance to think about it. "Just a sec, Frase," he says. Fraser's got one arm into his coat, and Ray stands up and hands him the baby as soon as he's got it on properly. "Sister, can I, uh, can I speak to you in the hall for a sec?" he says, and takes her arm and pulls her out.

"Uh, Sister?" he says, lowering his voice. The hallway's dim and deserted, and a statue of Mary is standing in a little alcove at the far end. "What's going to happen to the baby?"

The nun sighs. "I don't know, Detective," she says. She's a beautiful woman, and Ray wonders briefly how she ended up where she did. "We'll look for the parents, and if we can't find them—well, we'll try to find him an adoptive family, but the Sisters of Charity have an orphanage, and if all else fails—" she breaks off.

Oh. "And if, uh, someone came along and wanted to adopt the baby?" Ray says. "Like, uh, someone who hadn't meant to have kids, but," he swallows, and tries a smile, "but who saw this as a gift from God?"

She looks at him, sharp and assessing, and doesn't say anything for a moment. "I think," she says finally, "that _if_ we weren't able to find the parents, and _if_ that person were to follow all the proper procedures, and was deemed a suitable parent, then, yes, I think—it might be possible."

"Okay," Ray says. "Uh, thanks, Sister. I'll, uh, keep that in mind." She tilts her head, acknowledging, looking very like a nun for a moment, and then she smiles, a brilliant smile.

"All right, Detective," she says. "I think your partner is waiting, and I have to go call the proper authorities. Can you come back tomorrow to discuss the theft? Same time?" Ray nods, feeling slightly overwhelmed, and follows her into her office again.

Fraser's sitting in Sister Clementine's chair, the baby nestled in the crook of his elbow, and he is, very quietly, singing a lullaby. He looks up when they come in and stops singing, flushing a little, and hands over the baby wordlessly. Sister Clementine takes the baby from him and nestles it back in its basket.

"Thanks, Sister," Ray whispers, and leads Fraser out into the hallway.

They get to the car, and oh man, suddenly Ray's absolutely exhausted—two epiphanies in one day; there is no way he's prepared for this. All he wants to do is go home and collapse and _not think,_ because god, is he insane? What is he possibly thinking?

Except—Fraser's sitting staring out the passenger window, and he's pretty quiet. "Hey, Frase, you all right?" he says. He reaches out and rubs the back of Fraser's hand with his thumb.

Fraser sighs, and brushes a kiss across Ray's knuckles before he puts Ray's hand back on the wheel. "Fine, Ray," he says, quietly. "I just—I feel sorry for that poor child; growing up without his parents..." He slants a look across the car at Ray. "It's hard for a child to grow up knowing his parents didn't love him enough to keep him."

 _Oh._ "No, Frase, listen," Ray says. "Maybe they gave him up _because_ they loved him, because they knew they couldn't take care of him. Maybe they, uh, maybe they were sick, or something, and knew they weren't going to live, I don't know." Fraser's listening, but he's got this look on his face that just fucking breaks Ray's heart.

"Fraser," Ray says urgently. "Fraser. I'm fucking happy right now, right? I mean, I told you that this morning, right?"

Fraser raises his eyebrows. "The metaphorical birds, yes, I remember," he says, and he gives Ray a little smile. "So?"

And god, it feels like it's the hardest thing he's ever done, god, what is he doing? this is crazy—He takes a deep breath. "This is gonna sound crazy, but—I want a baby, Frase," he says. "You know that's one of the reasons me and Stella split, 'cause I wanted kids and she didn't?" Fraser's staring at him, and he nods, dazedly. Ray heaves another breath. "Except—" he says, "except, I can't do it alone, right?"

"Right," Fraser manages. "Ray—" His voice cracks a little.

And, god, none of this had even crossed his mind this morning. But suddenly it's totally easy, totally easy to say, 'cause yeah, he'd thought he was happy with his life before, but this?—this would blow that right out of the water. "So how 'bout it, Frase?" he says. "Wanna run off with me and buy a house with a picket fence and get the two-point-five kids and the minivan and the dog?"

"Two-point-five kids and minivan and _dog?"_ Fraser echoes, like Ray's suddenly dropped into speaking Inuktitut or something.

Ray smiles. "Come on, Fraser, get with the program," Ray says. "I'm asking you if you wanna get married and have kids; just roll with it, Fraser."

Fraser's staring at him in amazement, wide-eyed now, looking poleaxed. "Ray!" he says, then stops, like his brain suddenly isn't connected to his mouth anymore.

And now Ray's terrified again, because why isn't he saying anything? "Fraser—" he says, panicked.

"Ray," he says solemnly, eyes wide and serious. "Ray, I have a wolf, not a dog, will that still work?"

And then Fraser's laughing, and he's laughing, and it's a good thing they're at a stoplight, 'cause he's leaning over to kiss him in full view of God and the other drivers and everyone. And god, Ray was right. He was happy before, but man, that was nothing at all.


End file.
